


and instructions for dancing

by carmen_sandiego



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Fertility Issues, Future Fic, Marriage, Pregnancy, Romance, This has a happy ending I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-07 14:58:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14083464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carmen_sandiego/pseuds/carmen_sandiego
Summary: A year after PyeongChang, Scott and Tessa start their lives together.





	1. Forever starts now

 

\-------

It’s the end of their Stars on Ice tour in Vancouver, and it’s been amazing. A year post-PyeongChang and the crowds are still filling every house, the programs have been better than ever, and it’s what will likely be their final tour for a long time. In July she starts up her MBA program at McGill, and once they set foot back in Montreal he’ll be full time at Gadbois coaching junior teams.

They’re not the only skaters in the group having their last hurrah on this tour, either, so it’s a full complement heading to the clubs that night. It’s both cathartic and sad, like a strange fish bowl mix of feelings of high school graduation and freedom and torch-passing. She dances with everyone at least once, but the last hour of the evening is only for him.

Some time well after midnight they find themselves drifting towards the exit and making their goodbyes, and they fall into the same cab back to the hotel.

She’s happy that he walks her to her hotel room, a relaxed smile on his face and one hand on her back. “Night, T,” he says, pressing a kiss to her lips.

It’s warm and brief, and unassuming, but she finds in that moment it’s not enough, so she leans back in, pressing her lips back to his without hesitation or worry. One hand drifts to his chest, running up along the edge of his neck and curling in the ends of his hair, still damp from earlier dance floor escapades.

She’s relieved to find that he starts kissing her back without much effort, and a feverish minute passes before she breaks for air. He’s grasping at her waist with both hands, his expression a mix of stunned and elated and something she can’t quite place.

Tessa runs her hand along the line of his jaw, one finger lingering on his bottom lip. She wants to say about a hundred things all of a sudden - _Thank you, Scotty - It’s been the best year - It’s been the easiest season of my life, skating with you this time -_ but none of those things feel exactly right precisely _now_ , so instead she kisses him one more time, both hands framing his face.

“10am flight tomorrow, Scotty,” she grins, “don’t want to miss it.”

She swipes her key card with a flicker of hesitation, not missing in the least the way his hand traces a line down her arm, clasping her hand almost pleadingly. “Breakfast at 7 though?”

“Yeah,” she says, unable to stop smiling, “coffee’s on you.”

“Sure is,” he smiles back, and then the door closes.

She leans back against the door and exhales deeply. A minute later she falls into bed, exhausted and filled with fresh possibility.

 

\----------

They are seated together the next day, the long flight made easier as a result - as always.

Neither of them start in yet on the conversation they know is coming. He can’t quite get the words together yet, but looking at Tessa he can tell she’s doing the same thing. _Unless I’ve lost my touch_ , a flicker of doubt tells him. But no, there’s nothing closed off about her, nothing telling him to pull away.

By the second hour of the flight he’s nodded off, and wakes after an uncertain period of time to discover she’s done the same thing, the warm weight of her leaning against his shoulder. One of her hands rests against his knee.

He slips his hand underneath hers, and after a few moments is rewarded with a squeeze back. He can’t help himself from lifting her hand to his lips. She turns her head closer, her breath warm against his neck.

\----------

Two nights later she’s knocking on his door, a chilled bottle of wine in hand. He cooks dinner and they sit at the table for hours, talking about anything and everything, finishing the bottle before they realize how much time has elapsed. There’s a lot of easy touches, hand squeezes. He likes noticing how her eyes crinkle at the corners when she laughs, how he’s seen her do that more and more often lately.

 _It’s too easy,_ he thinks, pulling another bottle from wine rack. _Is it supposed to be this easy?_

“Is what supposed to be easy?” She comes up from behind him, places their plates on the counter. _Shit._

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Yeah. You did.”

“I just meant-”

“I think I know what you meant,” she says, arms folding as she leans against the counter too, facing him.

She’s standing there so content and calm all of a sudden, verging on smug. He wants to kiss her, desperately wants to wipe that satisfied expression off her face and replace it with gasping surprise while he touches his mouth to every part of her body. But two nights ago it was her that moved first, and he’s damned if he isn’t going to make sure whatever happens tonight is exactly on her pace.

“And?” His fingers twine around hers, pulling her about as close as he can get away with.

“I think we’ve had twenty years of letting some things be harder than they needed to be. I’m ready for easy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah-” her lips are on his and the last shreds of his uncertainty evaporate.

 

\----------

 

She collapses against him, breath coming back to her in shallow gasps. Her body ripples with aftershocks that take her by surprise.

“I was wrong, before,” she allows after a few moments, lying beside him and staring at nothing in particular. His hand brushes at her hip. His hands haven’t left her since they stood in the kitchen, minutes and eons ago. “The hard parts were totally worth it.”

“Oh really,” he murmurs. “We might have to have further discussion about that.”

He shifts lower, cradling himself between her legs. His fingers are there, pressing. The rough edge of his jaw brushes her thigh, and a shiver moves through her whole body.

One hand tightens her grasp on the sheets, her other in his hair, as she falls over the edge for the third time that night.  

 _Worth it_.

 

\----------

“We’ll get a house, yeah?”

She agrees quickly, nodding back. “Definitely.” He figured she never saw herself tied to the condo forever. As it is he hardly spends any time at his own place any more. It’s almost November, her course work for the semester is nearly finished. They still skate together, a few very early mornings over the week when they can fit it in. He thinks she mostly enjoys it for her - for them - but also doesn’t mind showing off for the admiring younger skaters every so often.

They’re taking the weekend while they’ve got one, his training schedule ramping up for the juniors circuit in short order. The remnants of their dinner sit cold on the coffee table. What started out as lazy post-coital imaginings turned less and less hypothetical as the evening continued. They’re on the couch, her legs draped over his lap, fingers twining idly in the fading light. It’s not how he expected the evening to go, but he’s not turning this down, either.

“Not too close to downtown though, I want a few trees. Maybe a backyard?” How much of this picture are they filling in right now, anyway? He’s not sure, but he does know a family friendly home in the almost-suburbs painted itself into a corner of his mind and can’t seem to leave.

Her fingers stiffen under his. “Sure. I mean, yeah, I like the idea of space.”

“You do?” He’s not convinced she’s convinced. “We can get the space. I mean I know the market is still insane right now, but we’re more than covered for-“

“I know we can manage it, Scotty,” she squeezes his fingers then, “the money’s not the part I’m worried about, it’s the part where you’re thinking about about room for a family.” He didn’t actually say that bit out loud, he knows, but of course she’s reading his mind. She takes in a breath and lets it out again. It’s then that he realizes they’ve managed to not have this particular conversation before, not for years and years since they were too young to know what they were talking about.

“I just never pictured myself as a mom,” she shrugs, “I never got hit with it, with…whatever it is that makes you want that.” Her voice trails off and it’s oddly still and silent for a moment. “I don’t know if that will ever change. I definitely know where I want to go in my career, I just never saw kids as part of that picture.”

“Okay. So no kids,” he says, wanting to be clear.

He won’t pretend this shifts the picture in his head more than a little bit, and it’s hard to swallow that completely. But this is Tessa, and as long as he gets to do his best to make her happy for the rest of his life, it’s whatever she wants.

She shakes her head. “I don’t think so.” She looks back at him again, not actually indecisive in the slightest, but worried enough about his answer.

“It’s okay. Really. I'm glad we're talking about this now. Honestly, T, you’re the one that I want, you’re all the family I need if that’s how we end up.”

“Everyone’s going to expect it, though,” she shrugs, shaking her head resignedly. “So much.” She scrubs both hands across her face. It doesn’t seem to change her mind, but the expectations aren’t exactly helping. “They probably have been for years.”

“Then everyone else can shove it,” he answers without thinking.

She blinks, surprised. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re my wife, not theirs.” Whoever _they_ are he’s not exactly sure, but he’s also not the one with the social media empire to foster and the longer history of sponsorship spotlights. While he’s never been entirely clear on how to deal with that side of this pseudo-celebrity world they’ve fallen into, he does know he and Tessa owe nothing to anyone when it comes to their personal lives.

And if it’s his mom she’s worried about, he’ll take her on too. Hell, he’ll handle both their moms. He’ll become an expert in making sure she never feels guilty for anything, ever.

Somewhere in the middle of his train of thought her expression has shifted. He clasps her hand again more firmly, his other hand brushing along her knee.

“It’s okay, Tess, we can have five kids or zero, it doesn’t matter. We’ll get a big house and we’ll have an office and a bunch of spare rooms and on the holidays we’ll fill them with everyone we know, and we’ll have barbeques in the summer, and it’ll still be perfect.”

Slowly she nods again. “Yeah, okay. Just…”

“What?”

“You said ‘wife,’ before. I’m your wife now?” A smile broadens across her face. “We’re doing this now?”

 _Oh, shit,_ he thinks. “Well… yeah,” his expression mirroring hers. “What do you think about that?”

“Oh my God,” she laughs. “Of course I’m going to be your wife, you idiot.”

 _We really are doing this now_ , is what explodes in his mind as he shifts forward and presses his whole body against the length of hers. He covers his lips with hers as her legs wrap around him, his whole future right here in his arms.

 

\---------- 

The ceremony is in London, family members and friends and skating alumni all in the mix. Spring seems to cooperate just in time. They watch with relief as the last of the snow melts away the week before, and shiver only a little for photos outdoors against an evergreen backdrop.

It all happens in April, well clear of World’s and the end of the season for Scott, and in a brief lull in coursework for Tessa. Preparations seem to take far too long and not nearly enough time, all at once. For everyone around them that assumed this would have happened by now, a few months of wedding planning feels like an eternity- and for them, too, though they admit as much mostly only to each other. The number of details that need to be accounted for is staggering to Scott, who tries dedicatedly to share the load and keep up with Tessa. Eventually they both accept the chaos, make sure the few details they really care about are accounted for, and the rest of it will just have to work out.

Later, they’ll scan through photos from the ceremony that they end up remembering mostly as a blur. Mostly he’ll remember promising to support her and make her happy for the rest of her life - it’s already the thing he’s been promising her for years. He’ll never forget the shimmer in her eyes as she promised to love him and be his partner in every way, every day, forever. He hadn't thought his life could feel more full, but that day he’s practically brimming over.

The reception is laughter and good food and shared stories, cake and dancing and a few happy tears.

He’s waving off the last lingering family members, making promises about brunch the next day and more thank yous than he thinks he’s said ever before in his life. Tessa’s finished doing the same as they return to each other at the edge of the hall. They’re both exhausted, but when he looks at her all he sees is how happy she is.

“Hey.” She kisses him softly, taking his hand. “I want to dance with you.” She pads forward into the polished wooden dance floor, her stocking feet gracefully noiseless. Hastily he kicks off his own shoes before they reach the floor, a few bright lights still filling the centre of the expansive room.

“But we did dance,” he points out, “a bunch of times.” They did their prepared couples dance, then all the rest with parents and groups, and then back to each other once more before the goodbyes started.

“I know, but I want to dance with _you,_ now _._ Just me and my husband.”

“Okay,” he nods. The DJ packed up a long time ago. He pulls out his phone, scrolls quickly before finding the song he’s thinking of. Letting the phone rest in the middle of the floor, in the empty room, it’s enough for the echoing strains to fill the space around them, the cello and strings line gracefully kicking them off.

They start out in a familiar hold, with familiar steps, sweeping gently around the floor in a well-worn pattern. After a minute or two he lifts her briefly, shifting her hold and making her laugh. Their steps change, alternating old choreographed steps with new improvisation.

In the end her feet hardly touch the floor. He’s holding her, turning with her in his arms like she’s the only thing he’s ever needed in his life. He feels her rest her forehead against his so they’re breathing the same air, unspoken adoration tethering them together.

Forever starts now.

 

\----------

 

Later that same summer, they find their house. It’s exactly what they wanted, save for the need for a few renovations. They make a plan, looking at the bedrooms and living area upgrades first. They plan on getting to the rest of it over the next few years.

He cooks on the weekends and evenings when they’re both at home, while she gradually stocks their wine cellar. She sketches, he plays hockey, and one piece at a time their home starts to take shape.

Tess finishes her MBA with the highest standing, and Scott throws her an embarrassingly large party.

Not long afterwards she takes a position in a local design firm specializing in women’s fashion. After a year she’s already leading her own team, creating a series of modern and minimalist clothing lines that are well received in the market. She earns enough credibility that she starts planning a few more exploratory, innovative concepts she’ll debut another two years down the line.

Their second year in their new home they host Thanksgiving for the first time, still half-tripping over each other in the kitchen - Tessa’s not sure anymore why they renovated the second floor first, when the kitchen clearly hadn't been updated in several decades - but they manage a memorable feast all the same, filling their home with more people than she realizes they could fill it with. Before the evening’s over they both already know this will become an annual event.

He settles into a new role as a coach under Marie-France and Patch’s umbrella. Sarah and Rafael are a bright-eyed junior team who he can already tell are good - much better than they realize yet.

They both offer consulting occasionally, still skating when they can. After a couple of years they return to commentating, joining the CBC team for Skate Canada, National’s, and the World Championships.  

She keeps up with a few promotional engagements, enough that it's still fun but not overwhelming. They're still household names in Canada, and the money's good.

They’re busy, and some months have fewer evenings together than they’d like. But they’re happy. They feel the years that still stretch out ahead of them, unfazed, content, and have no wish to be anywhere else than where they are right now.

  
\----------

 

Her sister’s first child arrives in June, not long after her and Scott’s fourth anniversary. Tessa makes it to Toronto in time to help see her and her husband through the last few hours of labour, blinking back happy tears as she snaps the first few photographs of her brand new nephew.

Scott’s unable to get away to join them just then - they make plans to return together a month later - but she stays for another couple of days, helps them get settled back at home and holds her nephew as much as she possibly can. She’s overwhelmed with happiness for her sister and her new family.

The baby is a true joy. The small warm weight of him in her arms sparks a happy light in her, all the unwritten possibility of this new little person and who he’ll become - who her sister will become as a result - and the thrilling realization for sure that she’s now Aunt Tessa.

“I’m your Auntie Tess,” she tells little James over and over again, though she knows he’s much too little to know what she’s saying. His little hand grasps tightly around her finger. His eyes are still unfocused but searching, responding when he hears her voice.

When she leaves she resolves to visit as often as she can.   

 

\----------

 

On the return flight to Montreal she finds her mind still lingers in Toronto. She’s so glad for them.

She expected to feel happiness for her sister’s new family. She didn’t expect the heaviness that follows her home.

Back in her own bed in their comfortable home she finds her arms feel emptier than before. She spends the next week waking up feeling vaguely as though she’s reaching for something, something that isn’t there.

The next weekend Scott kisses her good morning, gaze lingering a bit longer on hers. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah,” she nods, “sure, why?”

“You just seem...distracted, lately. What are you thinking about?”

She shakes her head. “Jordan. Just happy for them. Hope they’re all doing well.”

Scott nods back. She knows he was sorry to have missed going with her. “Yeah, me too. We’re going down week after next, right?” He kisses her cheek, brushes his fingers across her chin. “Pancakes?” He pulls aside the covers, padding downstairs. She follows behind, thinking about coffee.

She takes a deep breath and exhales into the early morning. It’s a Saturday she gets to spend with her husband, and that’s all she’s going to think about today.

 

\----------

She smiles at the endless stream of photos and updates from her sister over the next few months. Her nephew grows like a weed. She tells herself to keep on wading through it just for a bit more, that the empty, reaching feeling will go away.  

Except, then, it doesn't.

\----------

 

They host Thanksgiving again, a big friendly group as always. Scott does the turkey, Tessa’s done several pies, and the wine is good. It’s a beautiful October weekend, the first chilly one of the season but still bright enough to spend a bit of time outside.  

Andrew and Kaitlyn are in the mix this year, their three-year-old Elizabeth along with them. She and Tessa chat in the kitchen, catching up in person after too many months, then take their glasses over to the edge of the deck. Several of their guests’ children have discovered the sunny backyard, gleeful shrieks and running games filling the space.

The two women watch as Andrew and Scott take turns trying to corral the action, producing balls or games, helping up someone who’s slipped or tripped.

Tessa watches as Scott catches little Elizabeth’s hand, helps dust her off after a tumble. He makes faces at her until she giggles, running off to join the others again. Tessa smiles easily, watching the little dramas and comedies play out in front of her.

She glances over at Kaitlyn to find her looking at her, a curious expression on her face. “What?” Tessa looks down at herself, wondering if she’s spilled or rumpled something.

“Nothing,” she blinks, shakes her head. “I mean, Scott looks good out there is all.”

“Yeah, he does.” Tessa nods, smiling proudly now. “He’s great with the little guys at the rink, too, you should see him. They all adore him.”

“Yeah, I bet. I mean, how could they not, right?” Kaitlyn sips from her wine again, nudging up closer to Tessa. “So, are you guys…” She raises her eyebrows, waits for Tessa to pick up the question, but Tessa just blinks back at her, not sure what she’s asking. “Are you guys _trying_?” Kaitlyn finishes softly.

 _Oh,_ Tessa realizes, glancing back at Scott and little Lizzy. “Oh, no, we’re not. We talked about it way back, about not planning for it.”

Kaitlin shrugs. “We didn’t plan for it either,” she admits. “It worked out, though. I don’t think we can picture it any other way now.”

Tessa looks back at Kaitlyn, surprised. She’d always assume they’d tried for her on purpose. “You mean Lizzy was an accident?”

“Yep,” she sips from her wine again. “But,” she adds, one hand on Tessa’s arm. “Not a mistake.”

“That’s good,” Tessa nods back, absorbing this. “I’m so glad you guys are doing so great, Weavs,” she adds, wrapping her free arm around her friend’s waist.

Kaitlyn returns the gesture. “Same here, Virtch. You guys are the greatest together, always were.”

A moment later Tessa hears the oven timer sounding and they drop the conversation, moving to collect everyone and get the food going.

But in the back of her mind she’s thinking about it. About mistakes and accidents, and if it would be one of those for her if it happened.

 

\----------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from ‘The Book of Love’ by Peter Gabriel.


	2. It's easy, until it isn't

\----------

It’s on a weekend in early December by the time she finally realizes she can’t hold onto this on her own anymore. She needs to tell him, bring all of it to the surface and say it out loud.

He’s downstairs already, working on waffles for breakfast. The coffee’s going, and he grabs a mug for her when he walks into the kitchen.

“Hey sleepyhead,” he says, handing her the coffee. He kisses her quickly, moving back to the waffle iron. He lifts out the finished one and readies the batter for the next.

“Scott,” she starts, coming to stand next to him. He freezes immediately at the tone in her voice, looks back at her wide-eyed, waiting to hear what she says next. “I think I changed my mind.”

“Changed your mind,” he repeats. “Okay, about what?”

“I think I want to have babies with you.”

“You-” He drops the bowl back down on the counter, which, later, she will give him credit for managing to not spill over the floor. “Are you serious?”

She nods. “I think so, yeah. Yes.”

He puts his hands on her waist, coffee and waffles forgotten. “Wait, what do you mean you think so? When did you...are you sure?”

“Yeah, I am. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Ever since James came.”

“Okay,” he’s nodding again. “But like, _you_ want this, though, right? It’s not like because Jordan’s done it then you have to-”

She’s shaking her head already, stopping him with her hands against his chest. “No, I promise that’s not what this is Scotty.” She swallows, can feel emotion welling up as she tries to explain it. “I do want this, for me. For _us_. I...it’s what’s missing. I’ve had this feeling hanging around me for months now, and it won’t go away. I didn’t want this before, but I do now. I do.”

He nods again slowly, his surprised concern finally shifting into a cautious smile. “You do,” he grins, slipping her closer into his arms.

She just smiles back at him for a long moment, and then startles all of a sudden. “Wait, _you_ still want this too, right? This is a good thing?”

“Is this a _good_ thing?” he repeats back, incredulous. “Holy shit, Tess,” and then he soundly kisses her, his lips answering for him as deeply as he can manage.

She’s left breathless for a moment, starts laughing in giddy relief and excitement. “Okay then.”

“Okay.” He looks back at her, one hand still framing her face. His thumb brushes across the seam of her lower lip, his eyes following its path. “Okay,” he says again, quickly reaching to unplug the waffle iron, then clasping her hand and pulling them back out of the kitchen.

“Scott, wait, what-”

“We’re going back upstairs, that’s what’s what,” he says, practically taking the stairs two at a time.

“You want to start _now_? It’s not gonna happen on the first try, you know,” she tries to rationalize. Still, she’s laughing as she runs up the stairs to keep up with him.

“Don’t care,” he says, stopping short when they reach the landing. He scoops her into his arms, carrying her bridal style the rest of the way into their bedroom. “We should practice, just to make sure.”

\----------

She’s still laughing as he deposits her in their bed, letting him peel off her clothes and enjoying the view as he does the same.

One last wave of emotion wells up deep inside her and breaks, and she feels wet tears of happiness spilling  across her cheeks. His hands grasp at her hips as he starts placing kisses all down her body, starting with her lips, her damp cheeks, moving ever lower. His fingers part her easily and she gasps, waiting as he moves them against her, quickly building her almost to breaking point. There’s an agonizing pause before he lines them up, thrusting into her with little ceremony. She can’t get enough of him, begs him not to stop - not ever - until the peak breaks around her in a crashing shudder, bringing him along with her.

 _Oh_ , she thinks dimly as his lips trace a path on her neck, more slowly than before, adoringly, as their bodies shiver once more together. His mouth moves across her collarbone, his tongue dipping just lightly enough along the edge, and she digs her fingers into his shoulders.  _Oh, this is going to be fun_.

\----------

The first month or two, it’s wonderful. It’s better than wonderful. They accept the likelihood that they won’t conceive right away, and just allow themselves to enjoy each other for a little while.

For Tessa, it verges on a second honeymoon, crossed with the youthful lovestruck phase they never got to have with each other. Scott takes her to bed every night he can get, as though proving a point to her about how much he loves her, in case she’d managed to forget or change her mind about how she feels about him.

Outside, in their regular lives, it’s as though they’re walking around with a shared almost-secret, one more thing bonding them invisibly to each other. Even on her worst days at work or on his most tiring days of training, nothing else seems bothersome.

Tessa comes to the rink one afternoon after an early end to her day. He’s working through some standard steps with a few of the youngest junior skaters. She plants herself near the boards, enjoying herself as she watches him patiently instruct, demonstrate, observe, critique. He notices her after a few minutes and waves, blowing her a kiss from a distance.

She returns the gesture happily, blowing a kiss with both hands and waving back. The kids on the ice burst into giggles, which Scott then has to shrug off and get their attention spans back in line. He gives Tessa a wink over one shoulder before returning to the group.

A minute later Marie-France appears, sidling up next to her and joining in her relaxed conversation. “I thought I heard a little commotion,” she says. “The kids love it when you come by. You’re like a princess to them, you know.”

“I wish I came by more often,” she admits with a sigh. “Scott’s so good, I forget how fun it is watching him work.” Her smile is still big enough it’s as though she can’t turn it off. There might as well be little pink hearts floating around the air above her, but she doesn’t care. She’s watching her husband teaching the littlest future champions, and that’s darned sexy in her eyes.

Marie-France watches along with her for a bit, making a few observations about some of the students. After a while she looks back at Tessa, giving her a long appraising glance. She gives her a nudge with her elbow. “It’s nice to see you two so happy these days.”

She chuckles in spite of herself. “Thanks. It’s nice to feel happy.”

Marie-France lifts her eyebrows knowingly, enjoying her friend’s smile. “It is, you’re right.” After another moment she leans in, quietly as though someone else might overhear. “Are you two...You don’t have some news to share right now, do you?”

She winks, and Tessa flushes bright pink, laughing again. “No, no news. At least, not yet.” Marie-France gasps quickly at the confirmation of her suspicion, wrapping her arms around Tessa as if there _were_ news already.

“Oh I’m so happy for you two. You deserve to have this, whenever it happens for you.” She breaks the hug to look Tessa in the eye. “You let me know when it does, okay?”

Tessa nods back instantly, excited tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. “I will, you can count on it.”

“Good.” Her mentor and friend stays next to her, one arm still protectively wrapped around her waist. “Although,” she adds, watching Scott high-five two of the kids, who’ve just finished their first successful attempt at a basic spin, “something tells me you won’t need to.”

“I know. He’s going to be such an amazing dad.”

Their smiles combine into knowing laughter once again. It’s followed by little giggles bursting out on the ice all around Scott. He rolls his eyes and calls it break time, before skating over determinedly towards his wife.

\----------

It’s fun, and wonderful between them, until it isn’t.

By the time they start into the fifth month of trying and nothing happening, they’ve made a few appointments to try to help things along. The doctor reassures them away from worrying about all the things that might have been obvious problems to look at - they’re both healthy, both reporting normal enough levels of all the things that need to be normal.

It would all be very reassuring if it wasn’t also incredibly infuriating.

They’re told that sometimes this just takes a bit longer than expected, especially for couples who are slightly older. But they’re only in their mid-thirties, she thinks, how did that suddenly qualify them as _old_?

That’s the part that sticks with Tessa, long after they’ve left the doctor’s office. The idea that this might be harder for them simply because she decided too late that it was what she wanted. It makes her numb inside, shakes her confidence in a way that Scott can’t quite combat. She knows he’s trying hard to, though.

He offers her whatever she needs, is supportive verging on the edge of over-protective, and she finds herself becoming more short with him. She hears the tension and strain in her voice even as she tries to tell herself to relax, be patient.

But Tessa’s not used to coming up against a plan she couldn’t control, and it frays away at her like nothing else ever has before.

\----------

“Maybe we did wait too long to do this,” she wonders out loud to the mirror, a negative result staring up at her from the edge of the sink for the eighth month in a row. “We should have been trying for this years ago, maybe it would have happened easier then.”

None of these are new wonderings, he’s heard her say them more than once, both in the doctor’s office and at their therapy sessions. But he still hates hearing her say them, and it worries him that the advice doesn’t seem to be hitting any mark at all.

“Hey, they said give it a year, remember? We’re not there yet.”

She nods, but the hard line of her expression doesn’t shift. “Maybe it’s me, maybe I really am too old.”

“ _Hey_.” He doesn’t know how else to listen to her say these things, watch her blame herself a little bit more each month. He can only guess at how difficult this particular result is for her this time - last month she’d been almost a full week late, and they’d both gotten their hopes up only to have them dashed just as easily. “We both know that’s not true. Besides, even if it was true, we weren’t ready to do this before now, so it wouldn’t matter.”

Except that’s not entirely true, either, because he knows he _would_ have been ready years ago. But he’ll never say that out loud. They didn’t get anywhere else together based on blame, and he won’t start now.

She clears away the test and the packaging, not looking at him as she moves away.

\----------

September arrives, and a new competition season is ramping up along with it. Sarah and Rafael have been newly minted into the senior ranks and he’s been nearly full time workshopping their new programs.

The long overdue kitchen renovation that was supposed to be done by now - _get it out of the way before the baby comes,_ they’d rationalized ages ago when they contracted for the job - is still a few weeks away from being finished. There’s a last gasp post-Labour Day heat wave hanging over the city, and he can’t remember the last time they’ve been so tightly coiled in frustrations and raw nerves quite like this. Even in their worst moments of distance and tension after Sochi it was never like this.

They rapidly descend into the worst fight they’ve ever had.

At first he spends his energy resolutely trying to support her and help her. She loses all track of the performance mentalities they’d spent years honing, levying blame for everything and anything - mostly on herself, at first. Eventually he starts firing back, trying to make her see how they talked out their choices in the beginning, how he’d rather see her blaming him than herself. He tries to remind her about how all of their choices have always been based in mutual understanding and agreement.

None of it lands with her. He’s tired of parroting back their doctors’ advice to be patient, he’s tired of apologizing for not doing the reno sooner, he’s tired of trying to help her take care of herself instead of spending every night late at the office, and every morning hitting her snooze button a little bit longer than the last month.

It’s when he tries telling her how much he’d still be happy with her if they had no children at all, just like they’d planned for originally, that something in her seems to break.

Later, what hollows him out the most is remembering how he’d admitted out loud that he wishes they’d tried for kids sooner, how it would have been easier that way. She pushes him there without him realizing what’s happening, and then as soon as the words are out of his mouth he’s stunned into momentary silence. There’s no walking that one back, and he can’t even figure out how to try.

\----------

He sleeps in one of the spare rooms that night - well, not sleeping much at all, really - and the next morning he’s on the road early with Sarah and Rafael. They’re scheduled to head out to the pre-season training camp, testing out their new program and getting a taste of the judging feedback they’ll be in for soon on the seniors circuit.

They’re all settled for the evening into the hotel in Mississauga and he retreats to his own room alone, fingers hovering over the waiting text message screen. He’s heard nothing from Tess since he left that morning, and it’s the worst feeling in the world not knowing what he’s supposed to say right now.

_I love you, T._

It’s later - much later that night, when he sees her return, _XO._ He lets go a long breath he’d been holding in all day.

It’s not nearly enough, but it’s enough for now.

\----------

 

“I don’t want us to give up on this, Tess,” he tells her over the phone, the physical distance between them somehow helping them to talk openly. He can say the things he needs to say and so can she.

“Neither do I,” she answers, a little too quickly.

“I just...I can’t keep watching you hurt like this, T, it’s hurting _me_ to see what this is doing to you. It hurts me that I can’t do anything about it except, except…” _Except do the part that’s supposed to be fun_ , he thinks. He lets the sentence trail off unfinished.

“I know.” Her voice is quiet.

“What do you want us to do?” he asks, not for the first time. He keeps asking, hoping one time she’ll give an answer other than a frustrated ‘I don’t know.’

“I...I don’t want to give up. Like you keep saying, it hasn’t been a year yet.”

“No, no it hasn’t.” He’s curious to see where this goes.

“But maybe…Maybe we have to put it aside for a while.”

“Put it aside? You mean stop trying?”

“No, not stop trying, exactly, just...I don’t know, try to go back to how it was before, you know what I mean? Just for a little bit.”

He knows exactly what she means. He’s also almost entirely confident that it’s going to be impossible to go back to how it was before. For him that ship has sailed, has done since the morning she walked into their kitchen and changed his whole life in the middle of breakfast.

“Okay. We can try that,” he agrees cautiously. “What do you think we need to do to make that happen?”

“I don’t…” she stops herself briefly. “I think I need to remember why we like being together. Not just why we love each other, just...I think we haven’t been in sync at all the last couple months and we have to fix that first. I need to do more to fix it.”

“Yeah. Okay. But for the record, I have to do more too. You don’t get to take all of this on yourself, T.” There’s a light sound like a sniffle, and the idea that she’s crying on the other end of the phone instantly does something to him. He stands up, pacing it out as though looking for something to fight.

“I know, Scott,” she says finally. “But you don’t get to take it all on, either.” Her voice wobbles a bit, but it’s clear as a bell

He pauses for a moment. They’re both right. “Maybe we should do an extra session, you know?” Their couples therapist has been working with them for years, but their next appointment isn’t for another six weeks. He doesn’t want to wait for this to get harder if they can help it.

There’s a long pause for a moment, silence except for the sound of them breathing. “Okay,” she says. “I’ll call tomorrow, see what they’ve got for next week.”

It’s enough to make him relax a little more, returning to his seat near the dull curtains, staring down at the grey view of the hotel parking lot from several floors up.

“We’ll figure this out, Scott, I promise.”

“I promise, too,” he answers, and God he hopes they're right.

\----------

By the time he gets back a few days later, they’ve exchanged a few more messages and phone calls. They’re still not in their best place right now, but there’s honesty, and they’re talking.

It’s late when he pulls up, the house dark and quiet. For a flickering moment he’s disappointed she didn’t wait up for him. He’d have liked the chance to greet her face to face. But he reminds himself if she’s not up it’s because she’s likely in bed already, and he’ll take it if she’s getting a good night’s sleep as a result.

He’s glad to discover he’s right, stepping lightly into their bedroom a moment later and finding her soundly asleep. She’s half sprawled under the covers, even breaths sounding gently through the room. He resists the urge to brush the hair out of her face, press a kiss to her cheek.

Instead he changes quickly, discarding his still-not-unpacked suitcase aside, and lies down behind her. His hand is still resting lightly at her waist when he falls asleep.

\----------

Early in the morning - it’s dim, not quite dark anymore - she wakes slowly to find his arm curled around her. More than just his arm, his whole self is pressed against her, as though shielding her from something. She feels his breath against her shoulder, his face nestled into the pillow just behind her.

The alarm won’t go off for a while yet, she knows. It’s warm and comfortable where they are - where she is, here in bed in his arms. It hits home for her then how much she’s needed him these last few days. She already feels easier knowing he’s there with her.

Tessa shifts, turning herself so she’s facing him, resting her head against his chest and her arm around his waist. She can’t tell if he’s awake now or not, but feels his arms wrap around her shoulders as she settles against him. One of her feet comes to rest against his legs, her knee fitting there next to his just like they’ve done so many times before.

She exhales fully, then, tucked into his arms, and quickly falls asleep again.

 

\----------


	3. All in

October arrives, and one evening she places her skating gear by the door with a decisive look in her eye. Between the house, their schedules, and the emotional roller coaster that took them into fall, she can’t remember the last time they had something that felt like a normal week.

“Rink time at six AM tomorrow, Moir.”  

He agrees quickly, asking no questions. “You got it, Virtch.”

The next morning they spend a full two hours on the ice together. She’s a bit stiff at first, having missed more than a few skates over the last couple of months.

But then by the second hour it’s like her body remembers everything all at once. They’re skating brisk step sequences across the full rink, gliding in the familiar figure-8 pattern and remembering long-ago holds and lifts. It’s not exactly like the ‘old days’ - it’s been a long time since Carmen, since Moulin Rouge. Since Mahler and their first Olympic podium. But that’s okay.

By the time she hits the showers she’s relaxed and smiling easily, her muscles starting to feel the soreness that comes with a good skate.

She meets him outside the locker rooms and kisses his cheek, reaching for his hand as they walk out.

“Coffee’s on you, Scotty.”

“Sure is.” He puts his arm around her shoulder and squeezes, only letting go when they reach the car.

 

\----------

Fall settles into winter, and Christmas passes with the usual festivities back in London. They make sure to spend quality time with each of their families. It’s a good Christmas - no sudden drama or arguments, just nice company and food. There’s ribbing over gag gifts and hugs over the genuine ones. With a few kids now in the mix in both their extended families, Santa makes an appearance in person.

It’s Boxing Day evening and Scott and his brothers have made a fire in the backyard at the Moir homestead, the dinner leftovers packed away a while ago. The women seem to be having a summit in the kitchen about something, so for a while it’s just Scott and his brothers by the fire, opening up over a beer or two.  

With the guys he eventually tells them more about what’s been happening with him and Tess. Not just about their careers and everything with the house, but about how it’s technically been a year now that they’ve been trying, and still nothing, and they have to make a decision about what they’re doing next. Except neither of them has had the nerve to bring it up first.

There’s no advice at the end of their chat, mostly just boyish sympathy and listening. It makes him fully admit to himself he’s got to start the conversation with Tessa even if she won’t. Maybe not tonight, but before the New Year, he decides.

Danny drifts off briefly to check the firewood supply, and Scott takes the opportunity go to find Tessa, see if she wants to join him.

 

\----------

Inside the house, Scott steps out of his boots and heads for the kitchen, the scent of bonfire smoke following him.

As he nears the kitchen he pauses, realizing at a glance that the group of women is deep in conversation. Both of their mothers and her sister are seated around the table with Tessa, their empty dessert plates pushed aside in favour of glasses of wine. It’s a quiet little scene, but intensely serious.

Tessa’s shoulders are slumped forward, her chin leaning heavily on one hand. Her other hand is being tightly held by her mother and sister both, their whole selves completely focussed on Tess. At her other side his mother is saying something to her, quietly enough he can’t make it out, her hand rubbing gently back and forth at Tessa’s shoulder.

He guesses then the four of them are having their own, more intense version of the chat he just had with his brothers. He steps back, swallowing hard. Seeing her with them, like this, makes something splinter in his chest. It feels like he’s intruding on something too intimate, barging into somewhere he doesn’t need to be.

He also realizes then that he’s seen a tableau not unlike this before, between Tessa and Marie-France. It was a couple of months ago at the rink, just after he and Tess were starting to find their way again. She’d come by to pick him up after training and he’d found the two women huddled together outside the locker rooms, both of their hands clasped between them. At the time he thought it was good they seemed to be having a nice conversation, and hadn’t thought much of it after that. Marie-France kissed his cheek on her way out, and he and Tessa had walked out to dinner like normal.

He makes a mental note to send flowers to Marie-France. And their mothers. And pretty much every female friend in Tessa’s life.

After a couple of minutes of waiting quietly, he hears Danny bustle in the front door, stamping his boots soundly and shouting something about how the fire’s bigger now and can fit a crowd. From the kitchen he can hear chairs scraping, the sound of throats clearing and a few gentle final words. He steps closer into the room, receives a few cheek-kisses and quick hugs from the older women - _just like with Marie-France_ , he thinks fleetingly, wondering if women have a secret handbook for these things - and reaches Tessa gratefully.

“Hey,” he greets her dumbly, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

“Hey yourself.” She lets him kiss her, looks up at him with a watery smile.

“There’s a big bonfire out there, T, your name’s all over it.”

“Yours too, I think,” she laughs gently, a little performatively. He can tell she’s still dizzy from whatever words passed between the four women. “I can smell the smoke all over you.”

He’s nodding, reading her eyes and relieved that whatever the conversation was that just ended, it seems to have done her good. “Then you gotta catch up, because you’re still stuck with me tonight.”

“I’ll get my coat.” She lifts up to kiss him once more, and lets him follow behind her.

 

\----------

Back at home in Montreal they wave off party invitations, spending a quiet New Year’s Eve just the two of them together. They put on music and open a bottle of champagne and settle together on the big couch, needing each other’s company more than anything else as the year closes.

They have the conversation they know has been waiting in the wings, talk out a new plan. The National championships are just a couple of weeks away in Hamilton, then the World’s in Paris a couple of months after that. She’ll finish out her contracted cycle as part of the event commentary team, and he’ll complete the coaching season as planned. They’ll carry on with their current normal and make a new plan in the spring, and then it can be doctors and specialists and whatever else they need to do.

She’d be lying if part of her hadn’t considered just giving up altogether, about whether they’re making too much work and heartbreak for themselves. It would be so easy to just put this dream aside. But that’s not how they got anywhere else in their lives before now. She’s opened this door now, and can’t close it again.

“I’ll be all in, Tessa, whatever we need to do,” he’ll remind her later in March, when they’ll spend an extra week together in Paris after World’s have finished. He’ll clutch her waist tightly as they walk along the Seine, her arm around him to match.

“I know you are,” she’ll answer, and mean it.

 

\----------

They return from Paris to the chill of a Montreal spring. A couple of weeks after they get back a late season flu tears through the Gadbois skating club like nobody’s business. Half the junior skaters manage to escape unscathed, but only once Marie-France calls a halt to training for a week after both senior pairs have fallen ill. It’s only the first few weeks back post-season and no one’s losing out that badly on the missing time.

Scott’s convinced he’s managed to avoid it until a few days later he wakes up feverish, too achey to move and fighting a wave of nausea. He lets Tess take care of him – as though there’s any choice – and wishes she didn’t have to.

“Should go to work tomorrow,” he mumbles that night, his fever broken and a mug of soup on the tray she’s placed in front of him. “You shouldn’t have to fuss over me.”

Her cool hand runs down his cheek, which would be a sweet adoring gesture if it weren’t accompanied by her frowning expression, peering over him as though second guessing the thermometer results with her own eyes.

“Not a chance, dummy,” she shakes her head. “You’re stuck with me for the duration. This is why God invented home offices,” she adds, punctuating this with a kiss to his forehead. He recalls the stacks of notes and design sketches she’s been bringing home the last couple of weeks and sighs, resigned.

But he doesn’t mind the way she stays nestled next to him, laptop discarded next to her while he sips at the mug.

“Good soup.” He relaxes as she leans against him.

\----------

Two days later Scott returns home from his first day back at work to find her shakily emerging from the bathroom, pale and too hot and wobbly, and like she’s just lost the entire contents of her stomach from the last week.

He’s glad when her fever has cooled by the next morning. Still, Scott makes the call to stay home with her just as she’d done with him. He cooks her chicken broth from scratch and reads aloud from her dog-eared copy of _War and Peace_.

He’s turning the page after Natasha and Bolkonsky finally dance together, and sees she’s fallen completely asleep again. He stays, reading to himself as the war carries on and the lovers drift apart again, Tessa’s head resting against his chest.

\----------

One morning a few weeks later Tessa oversleeps her alarm, groggily coming awake like she’s swimming through a fog. It’s a confused moment while she realizes Scott’s side of the bed hasn’t been slept in, before she remembers it’s his trip to Toronto to meet with his team’s new sponsors. He flew late last night and won’t be back until the weekend.  

Fumbling for her cell phone she sees the texts she missed from him an hour ago. _Sorry babe, overslept_ , she types out, regretting the last few long days she’s been putting in at the office. _Good luck today_. She briefly taps out some boosting emojis in the next message, before her stomach lurches without warning. She makes it to the bathroom just in time, her phone forgotten.

She calls into her team that she’ll be working from home, feeling much better later on that morning if not still as tired as lead. She spends the afternoon with her laptop in bed, waiting for the rest of the symptoms of what is surely a flu relapse, fever and aches, but they never come.

It’s the third morning of repeating the whole routine before it finally lands on her that this probably isn’t the flu at all. Startled, disbelieving, and cautiously excited, she stares blankly at the tile floor in the bathroom for several minutes as she lets herself believe in the possibility in her mind. Then she stands up, showers, pulls on the first leggings and sweater she can find in the closet, and drives out in a daze to the nearest drug store.

\----------

It’s later that evening and a thunderstorm has picked up speed just as Scott’s pulling down their street. By the time he dashes up the front steps and through the door he’s nearly run out of patience. Her texts earlier were calm but oddly cryptic – _We need to talk tonight, you’re coming straight back? – No, it’s good, I promise, at least I think so – Maybe – No, better in person babe -_ _You’re landing by 6, right?_ \-  and he’s more than ready to have out this out in person, whatever this conversation is about to be for. He drops his suitcase, forgetting to take off his shoes.

She’s already descending the stairs by the time the front door closes behind him, and he meets her halfway up to the second floor. He reaches for her on reflex, brushing the stray lengths of hair out of her face and trying to read her expression before she can get the first word out.

“Tess, is something wrong? Are you okay?” She looks nervous, and tired – _did she have those circles under her eyes before he left_? – but she doesn’t seem upset.

Before he can ask again she grabs his hands in both of hers and turns around, leading them both up to their bedroom, walking right through and into the master bath. Confusion flickers on his expression for half a second before she picks up the white and blue boxes waiting for them on the edge of the sink.

“I wanted you to be here for this,” she explains, on the edge of breathlessness. “In case…It’s not like I know for sure, or anything, but just in case it’s real this time--”

There’s a wet shimmer at the corner of her eye. He blinks, amazed, not quite believing what’s happening. He remembers all the ways she looked at him, so many times last year as she took so many tests just like these. During none of those times was she wearing an expression anything like this.

“Oh my God, Tess,” he says quickly, letting two of the boxes fall hastily back onto the counter as he rips open the first one on top of the pile. “What the hell are you waiting for? I mean, I’m glad you waited for me, but this is--” The plastic contents spill onto the floor, and she laughs, a half-nervous elated gasp that would be strange if it weren’t for how familiar it was. She retrieves the contents of the box and her expression steadies into resolve.

“Okay, just give me a minute. Five minutes, even,” she says, hands resting on his shoulders and nudging him out of the bathroom. The piece of white plastic is tight in her grip.

He’s nodding, then kissing her quickly before letting her go and watching the door close between them. “I love you, T,” he calls, “no matter what, you know that right?”

There’s no response for a moment but he hears a soft chuckle on the other side of the door. “I know, babe,” he hears her answer. There’s another sound of cardboard tearing, and he wonders if she’s doing all three of the tests all at once.

Then it’s quiet for a minute, and another. He sits on the edge of their bed, glancing at the lock screen on his phone and willing the minutes to pass more quickly. His jacket is still on, his shoulders still damp with rain droplets from the dash between the car and the front door.

He takes in a breath and lets it out again, and then another, and another. Then he stands up and paces. After what feels like forever he checks his phone again and sees that it’s been more than five minutes now. He stands near the door and listens, not sure if she’s let out a sniffle or if he’s hearing things.

“Tess?” He’s tapping on the door, unwilling to rush in if it’s been a disappointing result, but he needs to hear her voice to know. “How’s it going in there?”

A few long seconds later, he hears her clearing her throat. “You can come in now,” she says and the door opens in front of him.

Her smile is blinding. His head spins briefly and he reaches for her, searching her face. “Yeah?” He needs to hear her say it out loud.

She blinks, her chin dropping in the barest flicker of a nod, and his entire world changes before his very eyes. She’s shaking, half-laughing and half-crying. “Yes,” she manages, and clasps her arms around him. A row of three _yes_ -es rests behind her at the edge of the sink. 

Suddenly his vision blurs. “Oh my God,” he says again, his head buried in her shoulders. “I love you so much, Tess,” he repeats, tightening his arms around her and lifting her up. “So, so much.”

He feels her nodding, happy gasps shaking her chest and shoulders. He rests her down on her feet and she pulls back, kissing him as deeply as he can ever remember.

 

\----------


	4. So good, so much

They spend the next month trying to keep their news to themselves, and purely, utterly, failing. 

Their families are the first to be told, naturally, but any hopes they had of keeping it from anyone else for the first little while eventually evaporate. Scott’s excited energy is unmistakable to anyone with eyes, and despite Tessa’s best efforts to manage the fatigue and nausea, those closest to her suspect her condition without needing to be told.

Their first ultrasound goes well, to their incredible relief. Scott cries more than she does, watching the black and white images flicker across the little screen. They get photos, tacking a print on the fridge. More than once that week, she notices him gazing at his copy on his phone.

Everyone’s ecstatic for them. The waves of joy start flowing from every corner of their lives. It’s into her fourth month when she starts definitively showing, the little bump obvious to anyone glancing at Tessa’s petite frame.

Rumours of their news begins circulating online, and after a point they admit the need to formally confirm it. So she posts a photo to her Twitter and Instagram accounts, just the two of them together and her little belly in profile, accompanied by a simple caption. And just like that they’re overwhelmed with congratulations from all over the internet.

She thinks to herself so many times, that surely this is is too much to take in all at once - it’s so much, so good and full and exactly everything they’d been hoping for in the last agonizing year and a half.

 

\----------

 

October arrives again, and with it the beginning of competition season. Tessa has long ago done the math and realized how much of the season - and all the travel that comes along with it - will overlap with the last few months of her pregnancy. With no small amount of regret she bows out of commentary duties for the season, contenting herself with Scott’s reports as he travels with his own team to their series of assigned competitions - to successful results including more than one finish on the podium. 

In place of her time with the CBC team she throws herself into the last few months of her design work before her leave comes, eventually sketching and breaking down more lines than she knows her team will be able to absorb in the time before she bows out. Several of them - a to-her long overdue active wear collection included - she puts aside for future work instead.  

In November her rep sets up an interview and photo shoot for her with a pregnancy magazine, after a couple of months of insisting. Physically, now, she feels nothing like that almost-model from a few years ago, and it’s not quite the same as any other profile she’s done before. She’s had years of practice from when her messaging was always rooted in the artistic and athletic processes, and the nature of their training, and her competitive focus as a team with Scott. It’s strange to be talking almost entirely about her personal life and very little about the professional at all.

Still, Tessa’s touched by the warmth of the interview team, how excited they are to hear about her and Scott’s life and plans together. She describes how happy they are, offers a few careful notes about their decision to welcome their new arrival. She gives away just enough to be genuine while still maintaining the privacy of everything they went through. She talks about the exercise and self-care she still diligently includes in her week, and in her mind’s eye she can see the editorial tips lists that will follow from the interview.

When Scott arrives towards the end of the shoot to meet up as planned, the photographer pulls him into a few shots, unable to resist the prospect of a couples portrait. Scott grumbles about it at first, waving it off, but then enjoys the flurry of attention when he remembers this is really all about Tessa.

Later the next week, when he’s with her looking over her shoulder after the proofs come in, he points to one right away, finger tapping at the tablet resting on her knee. “That one,” he tells her. “Ask them for that one.”

It’s a shot almost from the end of the session, too casual to be considered for the final layout. They’d finished with all of the posed shots, so this would have been one of the last as they were winding down to wrap. She remembers he’d said something in her ear that made her laugh, and the photographer had snapped it then. They’re there fitting comfortably next to other, relaxed and smiling, one of his arms around her and her hand halfway to stifling a laugh. They’re completely tuned into each other in that moment.

A few weeks later she has it framed, an early Christmas present for both of them. It hangs above their shared dresser, right in the middle.  

 

\----------

 

The holidays arrive, and Tessa’s officially taken her leave from work, planning a couple of weeks vacation to be followed immediately by her year of maternity leave. Christmas passes well, this time with the two of them hosting their families in Montreal. They’re left with the lingering sensation of being hugged and squeezed almost to bits with all the congratulations and anticipation. They’re also left with an enormous pile of gifts - all with their names on them, but pretty much all for the baby.  

By the New Year the house is empty again and she starts feeling restless.

“I want to come with you to Ottawa,” she tells him over breakfast. “Tracy invited me to join her and Kurt on the commentary team.”

“Really?” he says, clearly surprised. They’d planned for him to just go down to National’s with Sarah and Rafael, Patrice along for additional support. She’d already had messages from Marie-France to make plans for the week the boys were away, but then the call from Tracy had come in and she’d accepted right away.

“The drive isn’t that long,” she reasons. “I’ll just do the seniors events, leave by the time the gala starts. Five days tops, we’re back by the Sunday night latest.” She shrugs. “Besides, I already said yes.”

“But, babe…” He rests one hand on her round belly, concern in his expression. “It’s getting close, though. Hell, I’m not sure  _ I _ even want to go, I was half thinking about just getting Patch and Marie-France to take the kids instead of me.”

She’s shaking her head. “They need you there. You should go. And afterwards we’ve still got a full week, maybe more.” She’s already told him several times how her sister’s delivery went a week late, and her mom went late both times with her and her sister. And Scott was there at her appointment the day before, where everything was looking healthy and on track, no signs of budging. And she knows if none of that works she will make him talk to Tracy himself - Their long-time mentor who once skated a solo exhibition program while pregnant with her second child. And she’s pretty sure he knows all of these things already. “I’m coming with you. It’ll be  _ fun _ .”

He lets out a reluctant sigh, finally, smiling as the baby moves under his hand. “Okay. Yeah. It’ll be good.”

 

\----------

And then, it is. It all goes just as planned. No sudden emergencies, no blizzards, no feverish rush to the hospital. 

Scott commits to his coaching duties and celebrates his team’s first place finish as though it were Vancouver all over again. Tessa spends most of the time cozily tucked into the sound booth with Kurt and Tracy. Kurt brings her water, tea, tells lots of stories as always. Tracy spends plenty of time fussing over her like an aunt, offering just enough reassuring words and advice. Tessa’s grateful, boosted by her friends.

It’s thrilling to see the progress the top skaters have made since the year before, and endearing how keen the newest ones seem. It seems impossible that she and Scott were ever this young, this wide-eyed.  _ Nope _ , she laughs to herself,  _ we were even more wide-eyed than that. _

The part of her brain that is always planning, always thinking about new routines, is alive as Tessa watches the ice dancing events in particular. Into the microphone she praises the lifts and the artistry and the technical skill involved in what she knows are industry-tested elements. She expresses knowing sympathy when someone makes an error, offering the perspective of someone with a long career filled with every high and low in the books. For long moments in her mind she starts working over how she and Scott would execute some of the elements, the sequences that might be possible in their hands.

It’s when she feels a gentle roll and a kick somewhere beneath her rib cage that she comes back down to earth, remembers that none of that’s happening right now. Or at least not for a while. And maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be.

 

\----------

As planned Tessa leaves the gala commentary to Kurt and Tracy alone, so she and Scott can head home on their own. The two hour drive passes uneventfully except for a dusting of snow as they hit the Montreal city limits.

It’s close to dark by the time he pulls up to their house. She’s fallen asleep in the passenger seat next to him, shallow dozing breaths audible as he turns off the engine.

“Hey,” he tries, gently moving his hand down her arm, eventually clasping her hand.

Her breathing shifts after a moment, and she sits up a little straighter, eyes still closed. “Mm. Home?”

“Home. You’ve got the keys, I’ll get the bags, okay?”

“Mm-hmm. Bags. Keys,” she adds, shaking her head quickly. Tessa blinks her eyes heavily, actually awake now. She runs her free hand across her face, squeezes his with the other and lets out a yawn. He hadn’t realized how deeply she’d been out.

“You need me to help you to the door, madame?”

“Maybe I do, monsieur. It’s awfully snowy out there.”

It isn’t, not really. But he winks back, thinking for about the hundredth - silent - time that day how beautiful she is right now. About two months ago he almost quit telling her as much because she just brushes it off every time, as though he’s making it up or reading from a script.

So he just leans in, gently kissing the corner of her mouth, then the other, and then presses his mouth fully against hers. Her lips part beneath his after a few seconds and then he feels her free hand running along his neck, clutching in his hair. Her tongue traces along the edge of his lips, and then his tongue, and she deepens the kiss right back. It’s a long, heated moment before they part, breathless.

“Hey now,” she exhales, “don’t start something you’re not prepared to finish, mister.” She’s eyeing him with a smile on her face, drowsiness still tinting her voice. Her cheeks are flushed pink, her lips curving perfectly into a lazy smile and their joined hands pressed against the firm curve of her stomach. She’s stunning to him right now, whether she realizes it or not, all roundness and glow and soft edges. There’s a lot of things he’d like to start  _ and _ finish.

Still, as much as he’d like that - and parts of her might too - he knows how long the week has been, how she must truly want nothing more than a rest. “I think I’ll settle for you running a bath while I unpack and make us some food, how’s that?”

He’s rewarded with a grateful sigh from Tessa. “Oh, I love it when you say things like that to me.”

“Also, I have it on someone’s good authority we have another week together, all to ourselves.”

Tessa lets out a long sigh, before finally straightening and sitting up purposefully. “Better get started then.” She lets his hand go as she lifts her handbag into the crook of her arm and reaches for the car door, letting him follow briskly behind her.

 

\----------

It’s the third morning after their return from Ottawa when Scott wakes in the dark, a glance at his phone showing 4:07am. Turning to Tessa’s side of the bed he finds it empty, sheets pulled back, completely cold. 

Frowning, he swings out of bed and pulls on a sweatshirt over his tee and pyjama pants. The January air is chilly even inside, the house still waiting for the furnace to kick in for the day.

He finds her downstairs in the dimly lit kitchen, a half-drunk mug of tea gone cold on the table, her phone gleaming on the counter next to her. She’s learning forward against the counter, forehead pressed against her clasped hands, arms braced steadily against the cool granite while her hips sway slowly back and forth. She’s concentrating, slowly inhaling and exhaling. 

_ Oh _ .  _ Oh, shit, _ he thinks.

“Tess?”

It takes her a moment for her to straighten, as her breathing returns to normal and her hands flatten once again atop the counter. He brings one hand to rest against her back. She’s radiating warmth.

“So much for that week by ourselves,” she lets out, one arm coming to wrap around his shoulders as she buries her face into the curve of his neck. Her breathing has relaxed, but her hips are still moving in a gentle rhythm back and forth.

“Not a false alarm this time?” The first week of the new year she’d had false contractions twice, events that stressed him out much more than her.

Tessa shakes her head. “Wasn’t like this before. Stronger this time. Hurts more, hurts...lower,” she tries to explain.

Scott nods, rapidly absorbing this and trying to recall all the things he’s supposed to have done by now, like knowing about timings and whether he remembered to fill up the car yesterday and at what point they agreed they’d alert their mothers.  _ Hospital _ , is the only thought running through his mind now, mentally calculating the best route to travel at this hour of the day.

But right now she’s leaning against him as though it’s the only thing she needs to do, so he lets himself sway with her.

The back of her neck is damp under his fingers. He can tell she’s already starting to work hard, which worries him since she can’t have been at this for more than--

“How long?” He asks then. He thinks back, remembers getting into bed around eleven, Tessa sleeping deeply next to him.

“Woke up around one, felt it starting,” she says. “Got up to walk around, be sure.”

“ _ Tess _ .” He’s been sound asleep all the while, and here she is --

“I know,” she breathes. “Was going to get you up soon, I swear. Just kept waiting for the next one to be over.”

Their hospital bag is already packed and waiting in the downstairs closet, he thinks. His keys are by the door, his wallet in his jacket that he tossed over the living room chair yesterday after coming in from bringing back dinner.

“You got me now, babe.” Right now he’d do any single thing she asked him.

“Yeah. Need you to time them,” she says, and he makes a pointed glance at the clock on the stove. This is it, then, they’re doing this now.

He moves his hands down in a slow sweep down her shoulders, brushing through her hair, across her back, coming to rest around her hips. He rubs against her lower back with one hand, trying to remember that one spot that was bothering her the day before.

It’s not much longer before the next contraction comes over her. He feels her tense, feels her breathing become more purposeful. The curve of her belly tightens where her body rests against his. It’s the strangest, most marvellous thing, watching her do this.

He holds her while she slowly breathes through it and then the contraction passes, but she stays rooted to their spot, arms clasped around his body.

It’s another half hour and five - six - contractions later when her water breaks, and then after that nothing’s moving slowly any more.

 

\----------

The clock on the hospital room wall reads a little after 10am, which means they’ve been here nearly five hours. But that can’t be right, she thinks. She’s lost all ability to track time. In the last few hours her entire focus has narrowed to the workings of her body, breathing, concentrating. She feels everything. 

Scott’s been next to her the entire morning. She thinks he took a few minutes at some point when someone encouraged him to grab a cup of coffee -  _ at least one of us should get to have coffee,  _ she’d thought fleetingly. Still, every time she’s needed to reach for him, he’s been there, letting her squeeze his hand, counting minutes and reassuring her, breathing in and out with her. Eye contact fell aside about an hour ago as her contractions increased their pace.

It’s the strangest thing to her, now that she’s here doing this, how it wasn’t quite what she was expecting. The pain has gotten worse -  _ you’ve done pain before, you know about pain _ , she’s kept telling herself - but it’s the pressure that grips her the most. Since they made it to the hospital it’s been building low in her pelvis and getting stronger practically every minute, giving her no choice but to focus and understand the urgency of what’s she’s about to do. A gentle trembling comes over her as she keeps breathing, in and out.

The next contraction takes hold sooner than she expects, wrenching a deep moan from her. They all come quickly after that. These ones feel different, and she realizes this is what needing to push feels like. On the next one she can’t help but lean forward on instinct, knees coming closer to her chest.

There’s a flurry of action in the room then as someone checks on her, suddenly telling her not to push just yet. She can’t find her voice to protest back, tries to wait and breathe through it all while everyone around her sets up.

Scott’s there next to her, brushing the cool cloth across her face and forehead. “You’re doing so good, T, so, so good.”

“Have to push, Scott,” she pants. She can’t not push now. “Gotta-”

The next contraction grips her and she squeezes Scott’s hand, knees back towards her chest as she pushes, because she can’t hold this back anymore. She can hear Scott shouting at the others in the room, feels a sudden burning, stretching, as she bears down. The doctor’s there then, quickly but calmly talking her through and readying for what’s about to happen.

She pushes loudly through three more contractions that seem to go on endlessly, and then the head is out. And then it’s one more, and her daughter slips into the world.

 

\----------

 

Lucy Virtue Moir arrives at 10:33 on a cold sunny morning in January, yelling her arrival for all to hear. 

Scott watches as she’s placed immediately on her mother’s chest, Tessa’s relieved hands reaching for her right away. He can’t help the tears that start falling. He’s so proud of Tessa he can barely contain himself.

“Oh my God, Tess, you did it,” he presses kisses to her forehead and her cheek, one hand gently coming to rest on their tiny, wailing, beautiful daughter. He feels a depth of love and exhilaration he didn’t know existed inside him.

Tessa turns her face up to look into his, her amazed and full expression lighting his whole world. He doesn’t believe there’s any gesture he can possibly give right now that express to her everything he’s feeling, but he presses his mouth over hers, kissing her deeply enough to try.

Then, they’re both only aware of their new daughter. They’re laughing and crying at the same time, and he's not sure how to stop.

 

\----------

 

Tessa wakes up two mornings later in their own bed, soreness and exhaustion lingering heavily in her body. Also a nearly indestructible level of happiness, despite the fact that she suspects sleep is going to be ever harder to come by now. She presumes hormones are involved in this deception, which at this point she’ll take. 

Blinking, she focuses her attention on the whimpering noises that woke her up, noises now on the verge of becoming fully-fledged cries.

She sits up fully now, slowly swinging her legs slowly over the edge of the bed so she can lean forward enough to reach into the waiting bassinet nearby. Lifting her daughter up into her arms helps the cries diminish a little bit. The baby settles fully a few moments later, cradled between the crook of Tessa’s arm and her body, nursing happily.

She’s not quite practiced at these steps yet - neither of them are, really. After just a couple of days of getting to know her little girl, though, she’s still exhilarated to keep figuring it out. She adores their daughter, all soft baby-pink skin and a wisp of dark hair on her head.

It’s another minute later when she’s aware of Scott’s voice drifting from downstairs, talking with someone on the phone. Eventually he ends the conversation, and she hears his footsteps coming up the stairs.

He peeks his head in slowly. “Hey, you’re both up,” he grins, matching her weary but genuine smile. He starts towards them but pauses for a second. “Hang on,” he says, bringing up the camera on his phone and framing the shot of the two of them together. There’s enough morning light in the room that it’ll work, but still, she eye-rolls him once he’s clicked the shutter.

“What do you think, Instagram? Twitter?” He’s surely kidding, she hopes.

They still haven’t officially announced their new arrival to the rest of the world. Their families knew right away, of course, but they still haven’t done any proper announcement. While she suspects word has travelled to a few places - especially since they’ve both been radio silent on social media the last several days, for good reason - she was hoping to wait at least another day before deciding together how to tell everyone else.

“Don’t you  _ dare _ post that. We just woke up. And anyway, I’m a mess.”

“Nonsense. You’re so gorgeous it’ll crash the internet.”

But still, he promises to hold onto the photo, with a wink. A few months later she’ll find it gift-wrapped, printed and framed in black and white as a Mother’s Day gift, and spend a few tearful minutes trying to explain to him everything the photo means to her.

“Who was that on the phone?” she asks as Scott settles next to her, leaning his head over her shoulder. He can’t get enough of their daughter, and she can’t blame him because neither can she.

“Andrew. Texted him the day before and he wanted to catch up on everything. I got to tell him how awesome you were.”

“Oh yeah?” At this point she’ll take the praise. She still hurts in places she’d care not to think about.

“Yeah. Told him what a badass you were during the whole thing. How you practically did it all on your own, barely even needed the doctor.”

She breathes out a quiet half-laugh, disbelieving. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Totally serious,” he emphasizes, genuine love and awe in his voice. He leans closer, letting a finger rest on one of Lucy’s little hands, until her fingers twist around his and squeeze back. “I don’t think you realize how amazing you were in that room, Tess. You had it. It was like you didn’t even need anybody else there.”

Tessa re-settles her daughter in one arm, the baby still comfortable and close to falling asleep again. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she repeats, reaching for Scott with her other hand. She turns her head towards his shoulder so they’re cheek-to-cheek. “I needed you with me.”

 

\----------

_ end _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> This has been a pleasure to write.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from ‘The Book of Love’ by Peter Gabriel.


End file.
